


W IL LYO UMAR RYME?

by JHsgf82



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Romance, brief mention of physical abuse, slightly geeky!Katniss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29573760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JHsgf82/pseuds/JHsgf82
Summary: Katniss and Peeta meet in Optometry school.  Geeky Katniss is shocked when a guy actually pays attention to her, and she doesn't know what to make of him.  All she knows is that he's cute, endearing, and she doesn't like it when he pays too much attention to Delly Cartwright.  Ultimately, she realizes she was a goner from the start, and so was he.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 64





	W IL LYO UMAR RYME?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrspeetamellark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrspeetamellark/gifts).



> Based on the Prompt: ❤️ Day prompt “We met in optometry school 5 years ago. He liked me from the first day of class and wouldn’t leave me alone after that" An Everlark proposal story…on Valentine’s Day 💍 [submitted by @mrspeetamellark for Seasons of Everlark on Tumblr]
> 
> Cover Edit by mrspeetamellark. Thank you!

I’m not an impressive person, not by any means. I’m not pretty or outgoing or particularly smart. I’m knowledgeable about my areas of interest, but only because I study, a lot. I’m going to be an optometrist, like my father. This was always part of my plan, ever since I was able to formulate plans for the future in my mind. I wanted to help people, as he did.

One thing I never expected, or really wanted, was to get married. I never thought I’d be one of those blushing, smiling brides, glowing as she floated down the aisle in her wedding dress. And I certainly never expected to be proposed to on Valentine’s Day. But here I am.

And him.

We met in optometry school 5 years ago. He liked me from the first day of class and wouldn’t leave me alone after that. I smile, remembering it.

There was no reason for him to ever notice me; I was just the geek in the back. But Peeta, he saw me. He zeroed in on me immediately and came to sit by me. Not too close (which I appreciated), but not too far, either. And the first day of class, when I spoke up, correcting the professor, he was the one to jump to my side.

And since then, he’s been my ally, my friend, my lover, and so much more…

* * *

_**Five Years Ago** …_

We met in our second semester of Optometry school, in Biochemistry for Optometry, my bread and butter class.

That day, I was one of the first to arrive, and I headed directly to the back, right corner of the large lecture hall. I chose, what I thought to be, the prime spot‒not too close to the windows, so as not to be too cold, and right next to the stairs, so I could easily make my way out when class ended.

As I settled into my seat at the long, white table, more students filtered in. I’d just gotten situated when I saw him. Stocky build. Medium height. Ashy blond hair falling in waves across his forehead. He looked up at me and smiled. And in that moment, I panicked.

To scowl at him seemed too harsh, but I wasn’t the type to smile at random strangers. I think my expression came out as something of a grimace, and he seemed confused, but that didn’t stop him from making his way toward me.

I tensed up when he came close, silently praying he didn’t sit next to me. He didn’t. He sat two seats down. I breathed a sigh of relief. But I couldn’t help noticing him situating himself in his seat, pulling a notebook, pen, tablet, and the biochemistry text out of his orange backpack. I toyed with the end of my braid, watching him. He looked over, and my eyes shot away‒but not before catching the deep shade of blue of his eyes.

Until class started, I occupied myself with preparing my own materials, if only to not be tempted to sneak a peek at the guy beside me, who I could tell kept glancing over at me. Why? Did he find me amusing to look at?

Class began, and I focused on the professor, who, after a brief introduction started passing around syllabi for the class. Then he returned to his desk and began taking roll.

Professor Latier got to me. “Everdeen. Katniss,” he called out, adjusting his glasses and squinting to get a better look at me in the back. Apparently, my professor needed an adjustment to his prescription.

“Present.” I raised my hand slightly.

“Pretty name,” whispered the blond guy.

Well, that wasn’t usually the response I got.

“Thanks,” I whispered back, pushing my glasses higher up on the bridge of my nose and fixing my eyes out ahead.

“Like the plant?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied, the corners of my lips tilting. He knew about my namesake.

The professor went down the roster in alphabetical order. The whole time, I could feel the blond guy’s eyes on me, but I ignored him.

When he got to ‘Mellark. Peeta,’ the guy beside me spoke. “Present.”

I turned slightly and whispered, “Like the bread?”

He snickered. “Spelled differently.” He proceeded to write something down in his notebook. He tore a corner off and slipped it over to me. Passing notes? Seriously?

He’d written down his name‒Peeta Mellark. And he’d drawn a heart beside it.

_This guy…_

With a sigh, I tucked my braid back over my shoulder and wrote my name down, no heart beside it. I tore the strip off and slipped it to him. I caught his grin as he folded it, neatly, and stuck it in his pocket.

_What the…?_

Okay, he was a bit creepy, but not altogether un-cute. Alright, definitely cute. Perhaps a little weird, though aren’t we all in some way?

“Think you’ll forget?” I quietly asked without looking at him, wondering why he’d decided to save that slip of paper.

“Nope” was all he said. I made the mistake of looking at him then, and he gave me the brightest smile I’d ever seen. It made my breath hitch.

Professor Latier asked that we open our books to the first chapter. We were diving right in.

Peeta flipped open his book, but I noticed he wasn’t following along, but rather, he was doodling on his syllabus. I couldn’t help but be curious about what he was drawing, though I didn’t need to be for much longer. A minute or two later, he pushed it over to show me. He’d drawn a katniss plant. It was pretty good, too. I stared at it a moment then looked over; I gave him a little nod and a half-smile and slid it back.

He grinned.

The professor was droning on, and I was doing my best to pay attention. I was definitely interested in the subject matter, but I couldn’t help but be distracted by Peeta Mellark’s lack of attention. And I wondered what else he was drawing and/or writing. He’d been scribbling furiously, but I was fairly certain it wasn’t notes.

Finally, I gave. “Shouldn’t you pay attention?”

I inwardly cringed as soon as I said it. Why should I care if he didn’t care about the class and ended up failing due to lack of attention? And it just made me seem like a pest.

Peeta was seemingly unbothered, however. He shrugged his broad shoulders, and without looking up from the paper, tapped the side of his head with a finger. “I’m taking it all in. I can multitask.“

I frowned hard at the side of his blond head. Oh, one of those. If that were the case, and he was one of those special people who could absorb anything and everything with very little effort, I envied him. If he didn’t care about the course he (or his parents, most likely) was paying good money for, then I despised him a little bit.

“Besides, drawing helps me concentrate,” he added, the dimple in his cheek twitching.

“Oh.”

Just then, we both turned at the sound of a loud throat clear. From the front of the classroom, our professor was staring up at us, his arms tightly folded.

Damn it. Because of Peeta, I’d gotten into trouble, or at least called unnecessary negative attention to myself.

“Sorry, Prof. Latier,” chimed Peeta jovially as if it was nothing. Contritely, I lowered my head.

Professor Latier didn’t linger on the disruption, though, only went right back to the lesson. He asked several pre-examination questions about metabolic processes, and I answered the majority of them, myself. Could have answered them all if the professor hadn’t moved on to give another student a chance. It wasn’t like I was sucking up to make up for chit-chatting or trying to prove anything; I just knew the answers. So, why shouldn’t I give them if I had them?

Against my better judgment, I glanced over, and Peeta was grinning to himself. Probably thinking I was the biggest geek he’d ever seen…and to a good-looking guy like him, who seemed to have little interest in class, that was probably a bad thing.

The professor then brought up a diagram on the smartboard. “Oh,” I uttered to myself before sticking my hand up in the air. The moment Professor Latier focused on me, I spoke. “Professor, your diagram seems to be mislabeled.”

The middle-aged professor’s forehead wrinkled up, and he looked at me as though I had lobsters crawling out of my ears.

I cleared my throat, preparing to explain, but I didn’t get the chance.

“She’s right,” Peeta spoke up from beside me. “The cornea and the lens are reversed.”

Oh, so, he was paying attention. And he’s actually smart. And he backed me up. Not like it was necessary, but…it was nice, in a way.

“Good eye, Katniss.” I fought against smiling at Peeta’s cheesy joke, but then, he winked at me, and my cheeks flushed.

_Heaven help me, I might like this weirdo…_

Meanwhile, Professor Latier had turned to examine the diagram, leaning ever closer. After a couple of seconds, he spun back around, the corners of his lips turning up. “So, they are. Thank you.” He went on to note in his gravelly yet soft-spoken voice that there was always a flaw in the system.

Alright, so maybe Professor Latier would have noticed the flaw in the diagram eventually, and maybe I shouldn’t have opened my mouth, but at least I wasn’t the only one to say so. Thing was, in a matter of minutes, I’d gotten myself confused. I couldn’t tell if Peeta had been sticking up for me or if he was just piggybacking off me for the chance to show off.

After class, I gathered my things and headed out without so much as a glance at Peeta, but I soon became keenly aware that he was right behind me. I spun around quickly, nearly knocking into him. He put his hands out in the air as if to catch me. I stepped back.

“Are you following me?” Okay, maybe that was over the line. But at least I didn’t demand to know what in the hell he thought he was doing.

Peeta rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “No, Katniss. I was just…”

“What?” I asked, raising my voice slightly.

He pointed to the classroom behind me. “Going in there?”

“Uh, yeah…” I observed him suspiciously, gripping the strap of my messenger bag tighter.

“Well, we’re going to the same place.”

 _Oh_.

How humiliating…

“Sorry, I‒”

“It’s no big deal, Katniss,” he motioned with a hand, “after you.”

Lowering my head slightly, I walked into the classroom and began heading toward the back again. Over my shoulder, I noticed Peeta going off to the other side of the room, his head hung. I stopped and stood rooted to the spot a moment, contemplating. He looked like a whipped puppy, and I just couldn’t take it, so I called out to him. He turned to look at me.

“You…you don’t have to sit way over there. You can, you know, sit by me…if you want.” Peeta grinned broadly, and my eyes flitted off to the side.

“Okay, thanks,” said he, and I bit my lip lightly as he followed me to the back row. It felt a little like having a doting boyfriend. I’d never had a real boyfriend before, and even though I’d only just met this guy, it was kind of nice…

* * *

The next few days were much the same in the two classes Peeta and I shared. Peeta would draw and occasionally slip me little notes. I would take class notes, and occasionally, he did, too. We walked to classes together, and once, we grabbed a coffee at the coffee cart. Well, I had coffee; he had tea, no sugar.

But then one day, another blonde showed up in Biochemistry and sat between us. Delly Cartwright was her name. She’d been sick the past few days, so this would be her first class. And oh, if I thought Peeta had been friendly that first day, Delly was way worse. At least Peeta didn’t talk my ear off or want to become best friends immediately. He gave me my space, somewhat.

What was, surprisingly, worse than Delly pestering me was when she got friendly with Peeta. She became fascinated by his doodles (and by him, I was pretty sure), and she’d lean in close‒too close‒to see. And Peeta let her. It wasn’t like I had any right to be, but her closeness to Peeta caused a pit to form in my stomach.

I didn’t know why I was upset. I should be relieved that Peeta had someone else to bother in class, likewise with Delly, but oddly, I sort of missed having all of Peeta’s attention directed at me.

When Peeta offered to share his notes with Delly (not that he had many), I shot him a sour look. He must have noticed how needlessly angry I seemed because he leaned forward, looking past Delly and over at me, his brow wrinkled up in confusion, his lips forming a silent question.

I didn’t give him an answer, and after, I hightailed it out after class before he and Delly had the chance to catch up.

* * *

The Optometry program at Panem College was a small one, and so, Peeta, Delly, and I ended up in a lot of the same classes, not always at the same time. Peeta and I only shared the two. Delly and I were in three together, including the one with Peeta. I couldn’t help but wonder whether Delly and Peeta shared any other classes together‒probably–and if so, I wondered how cozy they were getting in those classes when I wasn’t there.

But I was trying not to think about it. I had no right to be jealous over a guy I barely knew and a girl who was much better suited to his sunny personality than I was. They were perfect for each other, I told myself, bitterly. And with that, I decided to carry on with my hermit ways. Only, somehow (and don’t ask me how), I ended up making friends.

I had a small group of friends, consisting of Madge Undersee, beautiful, blonde, and popular‒basically, the female Peeta‒Johanna Mason, the anti-Madge, dark-haired and abrasive, but smart as a whip, and Rue, petite, dark-haired and skinned, sweet, and witty. I also occasionally saw a guy I was friends with as a kid, Gale Hawthorne, but he wasn’t in our program.

My group of friends, sans Gale, decided to form a study group, since we were all first-years and taking the same courses, and one day, Madge decided it would be a good idea to invite Peeta and Delly to join. It wasn’t like a vote was taken, so how could I say no? And even if I did speak out against it, what was I going to say? No, we can’t study with them because I kind of like Peeta and sort of hate Delly because she’s too friendly with Peeta…

Well, Madge and Rue would have understood and been sympathetic, and Johanna would have either told me to get over myself or to go for it with Peeta and screw Delly (using more colorful language, of course), but I didn’t want to hear any of that.

As for Peeta, he’d been trying to make amends, and the poor guy probably didn’t even know for what. He’d been showing up a lot in places I frequented; it was almost like he knew my routine and was doing it on purpose. If not, it was extremely coincidental. I should be put off by his behavior, but Peeta was the kind of guy one couldn’t help but like.

And that was the entire problem‒I did like him. I’d thought about it a lot over the past month-and-a-half.

But I didn’t know what to do with that or how to deal with his closeness to Delly, which made it hard to be cordial to him when he ‘accidentally’ bumped into me and tried to strike up a conversation. I managed to keep him at bay, though; that is, until he joined the study group and had my number from the group messages. He didn’t abuse it, per se, but he’d sent more than a few messages just to me. Most of them were casual greetings and wishes that I’d have a nice day, things like that. And I returned the sentiments. We kept it superficial, but I suspected he had a lot more to say.

I supposed I did, too, but I wasn’t good at saying things, so I decided to let my actions speak. I thought it might be a good opportunity to express some things to Peeta when our group suggested a night out at the local campus bar, but it didn’t go at all as I’d planned…

* * *

What broke the ice between Peeta and me after nearly a week of not speaking was, of all things, a practice examination in our Introduction to Primary Care class.

Peeta was a whiz in that class. He was great at patient care, and his interpersonal skills, in general, were top-notch. I was sure he was going to make an excellent doctor someday.

We were partnered up that day to perform mock eye exams on one another, using some borrowed equipment from the lab. I decided to go first, even though the idea of having to be so close while examining his eyes with an ophthalmoscope made my palms sweat. But I kept my composure and worked through our checklist.

“Any problems with your vision lately?” I asked, moving down the sheet.

He paused before saying, “No, I’m good.”

“Peeta, you’re supposed to make something up, so I can diagnose and offer a treatment.”

“Okay, well, there is one…”

“What is it?”

“I don’t see enough of you.”

My entire body heated up, whereas, I was frozen solid by the intense look in his now darker blue eyes.

“That’s‒that’s not a vision problem,” I stammered.

“I think it is. Why have you been avoiding me?”

Always so direct.

“Peeta,” I spoke his name sternly, completely ignoring his question. “You’re supposed to use something on the list.”

He sighed. “Fine. Dry eyes.”

“That’s better. Um…” I glanced down at my hands, and an awkward silence passed. What was wrong with me? This was an easy one.

Naturally, Peeta was the one to make it better. That was one of his best qualities‒he wasn’t a bitter person. And he put others’ feelings before his own.

“So, Doctor Everdeen, what should I do about my dry eyes?” He gave me an encouraging smile. And I smiled back, appreciatively.

“Well, Mr. Mellark, I can give you some moistening drops. Do you wear contacts?”

“No, these irises are all-natural, sweetheart.”

Natural and gorgeous. God, his eyes were gorgeous…

“I see.” I swallowed thickly. “I just wondered because…because they’re very…blue.” What the hell?

Peeta gave a throaty chuckle. “Yeah, they’re blue.”

I rubbed my temple in self-exasperation before digressing. “Well, um, aside from the dryness, they look healthy. And you’re young, so I don’t think it’s anything to be concerned about.” I returned to the checklist. “Oh, but you probably shouldn’t call your doctor ‘sweetheart’,” I muttered.

“I call a lot of people ‘sweetheart,’ sweetheart.” Peeta smirked.

I rolled my eyes because I knew that wasn’t true, or at least, I hoped not. Somehow, I didn’t like the thought of him calling other girls that, even though it wasn’t exactly a favorite term of endearment of mine. He winked at me then, and I shook my head at him.

“Your turn,” announced Peeta once I’d finished. “I want to examine your eyes now.” He led me over to the equipment, and we waited our turn to use the phoropter and retinal camera.

I took a seat and remained as still as I could while Peeta examined my eyes. Admittedly, it wasn’t easy, especially when his knee kept brushing mine and his warm, minty breath fanned my face.

Not to mention, he was taking his sweet time…

“What is it? Do you see something?” I urged.

“Yeah, I do…,” he said softly, still looking through the machine.

“What? Infection? Couldn’t be macular degeneration…”

Peeta pulled away from the machine to look at me directly. “Of course not, Katniss.” Leaning back in his chair, he chuckled. “You’re way too young for that.”

“Then…?”

“Your eyes are perfectly healthy, Ms. Everdeen,” he told me in his fake doctor voice, which was basically his voice, albeit slightly deeper. He was such a dummy sometimes, but he made me smile, nevertheless. “What I was going to say was…,” he went on, “that what I see are the most unique, beautiful pair of eyes I’ve ever come across.”

My lips parted. I should tell him that that certainly wasn’t an appropriate thing for my optometrist to say. But I didn’t. Instead, we stared into each other’s eyes until our professor called time (it was only a minute or so, though it felt much longer) and transitioned us into another activity.

* * *

I couldn’t stop thinking about Peeta and how he’d said I had unique, beautiful eyes. I kept replaying the moment over and over. As if Peeta knew I was thinking of him, he called me that night.

I answered, and we ended up having a two-hour conversation. We talked about practically everything under the sun. He told me about his painting and his baking. I told him about my interest in plants and how I liked to sing, both cultivated by my father. And yes, I told him about my father’s death.

I shared a lot with him, including things I’d only ever told my little sister, and some no one knew. I told him all about my family, about the downward spiral my mother took when my father passed away. And he told me about his mother’s unrealistic expectations for me and about how she used to beat him when he was younger. It made me feel awful and insanely protective of him. I never wanted to see him hurt again, which was all the more reason I knew I should pull away. I could never be good for him; I could never be what he needed.

Oh, but how badly I wanted to be…

* * *

Although we’d had a really good talk several nights ago, Peeta still wasn’t satisfied with the way things were. And neither was I. So, when he caught up to me after class several days later and tugged me off into a corridor, I decided to be upfront with him.

“Katniss, I know you’re still upset, and there’s, clearly, something you’re not telling me.”

I glanced away, still working up the courage to admit how petty I was being.

“Please, just tell me what I did.” He slid his hands up my arms, and I shivered. “Is this about what happened at the bar?” His blue eyes pleaded, even looked a bit watery. Was he truly so upset over me ignoring him?

“Why do you even care, Peeta?” I sighed. He looked confused. “I mean, you have Delly…”

“Is that what this is about?” He ran a hand through his curls. “Delly isn’t you, Katniss. And she’s just my friend.”

“What am I, then?”

“Well, you’re…you’re…let’s just say, you’re not someone I want to be friends with.”

I flinched.

“What I mean is…not just friends,” he clarified.

I shouldn’t be as surprised as I was right then. I knew Peeta liked me, or at least, I should. But I’d somehow convinced myself that he didn’t like me as much as he liked Delly, or as much as I liked him.

And then there was the bar incident, which I still felt completely foolish over…

“It’s not just that,” I tentatively began. “There’s also the bar thing…”

Peeta squeezed my arms. “Yeah, can you explain to me what happened? Because I still don’t understand why you got so upset.”

I thought back, feeling utterly ridiculous about the whole thing.

“Well, you…” I sucked in a breath. “You told me I was beautiful.”

Peeta pressed his lips together. “You are beautiful, Katniss. And I think it goes without saying, but I meant that as a compliment.”

“I know, but…” How could I put this? “I wasn’t myself that night, Peeta. The girl you thought was beautiful was not me. You liked dressed-up me with makeup and no glasses, not the real me.”

The cruel irony of this whole thing was that I’d done it all for him. I’d worn a dress, which I hated; I’d worn my hair down, and I’d allowed my roommate to put powder and blush on me and line my eyes and darken my lids for a smoky look. I’d even gotten a temporary pair of contacts, which after twenty or thirty tries, I managed to put in my eyes. They watered furiously, and I immediately regretted it, but I did it.

And I’d gotten exactly what I was seeking that night, for Peeta to notice me and think I looked beautiful. But it didn’t make me as happy as I thought it would.

A wave of understanding seemed to wash over Peeta’s face. “Katniss.” He leaned in closer. “Do you know why I acted like such an idiot the first day I met you? Well, ever since then, really…” He gave a bitter little laugh. “It was because I liked you.”

I remained silent.

“At first, I thought you couldn’t stand me, but then, I thought maybe you were just shy. I’ll admit that I started to worry for a while there that I was annoying you, and I’d planned on leaving you alone…”

“I didn’t want you to leave me alone,” I interjected, and Peeta looked deep into my eyes. “I liked you, too.”

He flashed that pearly smile of his.

“When I said you were beautiful, I meant it,” he continued. “But I didn’t just think you were beautiful because you were dressed up that night. Clothes and hair and contacts don’t change who you are to me, Katniss, or how I see you. And to me, you always were and always will be beautiful, inside and out.”

A light gasp escaped me, and unable to stand it any longer, I wrapped my hands around his neck and pulled him against me, pressing my lips to his. Softly, deftly, his mouth slanted over mine while his hand went to my braid, gently gripping it and running it between his fingers. He wrapped his arms around my waist, deepening our kiss and pressing me up against the brick wall.

We traded kisses and caresses for several minutes before breaking apart. When we did, we were both faintly panting, and my glasses had actually fogged up from the heat we’d created. I took them off and began cleaning them with my shirt. Before I could put them back on, Peeta moved into me, touching his forehead to mine.

“Katniss?” he breathed.

“Yeah?”

“Would you…go on a date with me?”

“Yes,” I answered without even thinking about it.

Peeta pressed his lips firmly against mine once more, and I smiled into our kiss, knowing for certain that this was the start of something big…

* * *

_**Four Years, 10 Months Later** …_

“Have a seat, Ms. Everdeen,” commanded Peeta.

Not that I didn’t love when Peeta went into doctor mode, particularly in the bedroom, but I couldn’t figure out why he’d called me down to his office today, insistent on giving me an eye exam.

“What’s this all about, Peeta?”

“Just a routine exam, my love.”

“Alright.” I’d do just about anything for the man standing before me, so of course, I’d comply.

Peeta helped me into the chair like the gentleman he was then delicately removed my glasses.

“Why do I have to take them off, Peeta? Don’t you want to check my prescription?”

“Well, yes, but I’m going to use two charts today,” replied he. “One with your glasses and one without.”

He performed exam 1 in the usual manner, aside from stealing a couple of kisses, and then he gave my glasses back. He shut out the lights while I put them on, and I heard some shuffling. Changing the chart, I assumed.

He turned the lights on. “Now read this chart, Ms. Everdeen. With your glasses on.”

The first line was a huge, black W.

“Okay, W.”

“Good.”

“I”

“Mmhmm.”

“L”

“L”

“Y’”

“O”

“U”

Will you?

I continued reading down his chart as Peeta nodded along, smiling.

Oh, my god.

I slapped a hand over my mouth.

“Were you able to read the chart in full, Ms. Everdeen?” Peeta asked, approaching me.

Dumbly, I nodded.

“Good,” said he. “You see, I was in love with you from that very first day in optometry school. When I walked in and saw you, it may sound cheesy, but my heart stopped. Literally stopped. I wanted to sit by you so badly, but you were scowling at me.”

I laugh-cried.

“But I’m a stubborn guy, so I sat nearby, anyway.” Peeta knelt in front of me, placing both hands on my thighs. “My love for you has only grown since that first day, and I can’t imagine life without you. I actually have two questions for you today. I want you to be my partner in work and in life, so I’m asking…will you go into practice with me? And more importantly, as the chart read…” He dug into one of the pockets of his white coat and pulled out a small, black, velvet box. He opened it up, presenting me with a pearl engagement ring. “Katniss Everdeen, will you marry me?”

With tears shining in my eyes and the biggest smile on my lips, I gave him two yes’s, and I kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I’ll most likely be posting an additional chapter of this story and/or an M-rated outtake in the future.


End file.
